


Bonjour Again

by scifiangel



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiangel/pseuds/scifiangel
Summary: Neal comes home to New York after ten years away. How will Peter react?Spoiler for Series Finally:Au Revoir





	Bonjour Again

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks goes out to my wonderful beta, Jer. You always make my work better.
> 
> This is my first _White Collar_ fanfic. I’ve been watching the _White Collar_ marathons the last couple weekends and my muse insisted on speaking out. I hope you enjoy it.

Neal tightened his seat belt for the plane’s decent into JFK Airport. It had been almost ten years since he had been to New York. Ten years since “Neal Caffrey” had officially died. He gazed out the window, his eyes fixed on the beautiful city below; the city he loved, the city he would always call home.  
  
The former con-man sighed, wishing his homecoming was for a happier occasion. He was taking a risk coming back now. The statute of limitations on that Federal Reserve job still had a little under three weeks left before it ran out, but when he heard that Elizabeth had died in a traffic accident, he couldn’t stay away. He was relieved that Peter and little Neal weren’t in the car at the time.  
  
The last two days Neal’s mind had been filled with thoughts of the person he loved most in the world. He knew Peter would be devastated. Hell, he was devastated. He loved El like family. He wished he’d been able to go to her funeral, but he hadn’t found out in time. It had been over a month since she died.  
  
It was probably for the best. Neal knew all of the New York FBI office would probably have been there. Even with wearing the gray hoodie and jeans he had on now, rather than his usual suit and hat, someone may have recognized him. He was sure Peter knew he was alive. He had left enough clues for him to follow.  
  
He wondered whether Peter had told Mozie or not. Mozie. He had missed the lovable scoundrel. Despite Mozie being older than Neal, he thought of him like a little brother. An annoying little brother that drank all his good wine and had a knack for getting him into trouble. Perhaps he should have told Mozie he was alive. But then the imp would have wanted to come with him and Neal really needed to be on his own, be his own man without anyone trying to pull him back into the criminal life.  
Maybe he would drop in on Mozie while he was here. Maybe not. His main focus had to be on Peter.  
  
Peter? What was he going to say to him? How would Peter react? What if Peter didn’t want to see him? What if he was angry at him? So many scenarios swirled in his head.  
  
The plane landing, picking up his bag, and catching a cab all seemed to pass in slow motion. His muscles were tense, his nerves were raw, and his whole body was on high alert.  
  
After checking into a modest hotel he had the cabbie drop him a couple of blocks from Peter’s home. It was fully dark out, but the streets weren’t that crowded. It was that lull between rush hour and when the night life started.  
  
Neal flattened himself against a tree across the street and a few houses down from Peter’s. He watched the upstairs window as Peter put his son to bed then closed the drapes. His heart ached to be there with them. He felt so honored that Peter and Elisabeth had named their son after him. He loved his name sake with his whole heart even though he had never met him.  
  
When he saw the lights go out upstairs, Neal snuck around the back of the house and hid in the bushes by the back porch to wait for Peter to come down. He had to wait longer than he had hoped.  
  
Peter stepped out onto the back porch and slumped down into a patio chair. Even from his hiding place Neal could see that the man looked wrecked. His eyes were red rimmed with dark circles under them. His hair was a bit greasy, as if he hadn’t showered in a couple of days. He was dressed in gray sweat pants and a formerly white t-shirt with multiple stains on it. In his right hand he gripped a half empty bottle of whiskey without a cap on it.  
  
Peter took a long draw from the bottle then hugged it to his chest as if it were a child. Tears began to fill Peter’s eyes and run down his face. Neal couldn’t wait any longer.  
  
“Peter,” Neal called softly as he stepped onto the porch. He was trying not to startle the grieving man, but it didn’t work. Peter jumped up immediately and dropped the bottle with a loud crash as it shattered onto the deck.  
  
“Neal?” Peter’s eyes where wide. Neal wasn’t sure if it was from surprise or fear.  
  
“It’s me. I …” Neal didn’t get the chance to finish as a broad chest slammed into his own, shaking arms wrapped around him, and sobbing eyes soaked his shoulder.  
“She’s gone. She’s …” Peter’s fingers gripped the back of Neal’s hoodie as the man he always thought of as unshakable trembled in his arms. Neal rubbed his back and tightened his grip. Tears ran from his eyes as well.  
  
“I know,” Neal whispered as he ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “It’s alright to let it out. I’ve got you.”  
  
Neal wasn’t sure how long they stood there grieving in each other’s arms, but a cold wind began to blow and rain began to fall.  
  
“We should go inside now.” He pulled back from Peter and steered him inside. He sat him down on the sofa and squatted down in front of him. “Let me get you some coffee.”  
  
“No.” Peter shook his head. “I should go to bed. I have to get Neal off to school in the morning.”  
  
“Okay, but drink some water first.” Neal left Peter on the sofa and went in the kitchen to pour a glass of water. When he turned around Peter was leaning against the wall staring at him.  
  
“You’re really here, aren’t you?” It was said as more of a statement than a question, but Neal answered it anyway.  
  
“Yes, I’m really here.” He handed Peter the water. “Drink this and I’ll help you to bed.”  
  
Peter drank deeply as Neal ushered him up the stairs. As they approached Peter and Elizabeth’s bedroom Peter stopped short.  
  
“No,” he said. “In the spare room.”  
  
Neal understood his friend’s reasons and helped him to bed in the spare bedroom. He was only going to take off his shoes, but then remembered Peter hated to sleep in socks. Neal peeled off the socks as he realized just how much he missed those odd conversations they used to have during long stake outs.  
  
After pulling the blankets up, Neal turned to leave when a strong hand grabbed his wrist.  
  
“Stay,” Peter pleaded. Neal couldn’t deny him. He slipped off his hoodie and toed off his shoes before sliding under the covers next to the man he loved, but could never have.  
  
Neal lay there quiet and still for several minutes before he heard a deep sigh and Peter rolled over wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him close. The older man’s warm lips began to kiss Neal’s neck, a moister tongue snaking out to taste him. He couldn’t help the moan that welled up his throat. He had wanted this for so long, but he knew it was wrong.  
  
Neal rolled over to face the man he loved. He put his hands on either side of Peter’s face and pushed him away to stare into his deep brown eyes.  
  
“You’re grieving and drunk,” Neal stated as if it explained everything. “Sleep now and if you want to talk about this in the morning we will.” Neal rolled over turning his back on the man he loved, prying he would go to sleep soon.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Morning streamed in through the windows as Neal blinked awake. He glanced beside him at the now empty side of the bed. As he yawned he catch the aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafting up from downstairs.  
  
“Time to face the music,” he whispered.  
  
Neal tied on his shoes and made his way downstairs.  
  
He didn’t know what to expect, but Peter cooking pancakes in nothing but a pair of shorts wasn’t it. His legs seemed to be rooted to the spot and his throat was too dry to speak. He just stood and stared at the large expense of skin exposed to him.  
  
“Little Neal is off to school,” Peter stated. “He wanted to wake you up when I told him you were here. After getting over the shock of you being alive of course.” He briefly gave Neal a half smile before turning back around. “He’s heard stories about you his whole life. I told him you needed your sleep.  
  
How many pancakes do you want?”  
  
“I’m not …” Neal cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not hungry yet.”  
  
“Suit yourself.” Peter pointed with his spatula without turning around. “There’s coffee in the pot.”  
  
Neal grabbed a mug from the cupboard, poured himself a cup, and sat down at the kitchen island. He didn’t know what to say so he just sat quietly sipping his coffee with his hands wrapped around the ceramic mug to warm them and to hide their shaking.  
  
“Elizabeth knew you were alive almost as soon as I did.”  
  
“What did she say when you told her?”  
  
Peter chuckled a little before responding. “I didn’t have to tell her. She guessed. Seems I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.”  
  
“She was always a perceptive woman.”  
  
“Yes, she is.” Peter swallowed hard and shook his head. “I mean, she was.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Peter.”  
  
“Yeah, me too.” Peter put the last of the pancakes on a platter, transferring two of them to a plate before looking at Neal. “We talked about you over the years.”  
  
“About?” Neal asked afraid of where this may lead.  
  
“At first, it was about how obvious it was to her that you were in love with me.”  
  
“I’m not…” Neal started out of reflex, but Peter cut him off.  
  
“Then it was about how obvious it was to her that I was in love with you too.”  
  
Neal stared dumbfounded with his mouth open. ‘ _Peter couldn’t have just said that,_ ’ Neal thought. ‘ _I must have imagined it._ ’  
  
He took a sip of his coffee to give himself time to process, all the while Peter was staring at him expectantly.  
  
“And was she right?” Neal asked once his throat could speak again.  
  
“She always is.”  
  
“Did she hate me?”  
  
“Actually, she was for it. She thought you’d be good for me.” Peter turned his back to Neal, going through the motions of rinsing out the cooking dishes. Neal could tell he was holding back tears. “She’d started making plans for us to vacation in Paris this summer.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
Neal wasn’t sure who had moved first, nor did he care. His mind was filled with how good Peter’s mouth tasted, how wonderful Peter’s fingers felt gripping his ass cheek, and how warm Peter’s skin was under his hands.  
  
He knew by the way Peter was fumbling with the button on his jeans that they weren’t going to make it up the stairs. The couch would have to do.  
  
It was a rush of hot mouths and wet tongues, of thrown clothes and sweaty skin sliding together, of rapid thrusts and tears mixed with screams of ecstasy.  
  
Afterward, Neal lay on the floor trying to catch his breath. Peter spooned his back, his moist panting cooling the overheated skin on his neck and large hands gently rubbing his abdomen.  
  
Neal was afraid to move, lest he wake from this heavenly dream; afraid to speak, lest he break the spell he had to be under. He pulled Peter’s hand up and kissed the palm before pressing it over his heart.  
  
“Are you alright?” Peter whispered.  
  
“I’m just having a little trouble believing this is real.” Soft lips kissed the skin on his shoulder and he was pulled tighter against the warm body behind him.  
  
“It’s real,” Peter assured him. “And I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Neal shifted around so he could see Peter’s eyes.  
  
“You were my CI, Neal. You weren’t free.” Peter looked away and sighed. “I never wanted you to feel that you couldn’t say no to me. And I needed to be sure if it happened that you really wanted this.”  
  
“I’ve always wanted this.” Neal leaned over and gently kissed his new lover, then leaned back. “So, where do we go from here?”  
  
“You mean besides upstairs for a long slow round two?” Peter gave Neal an evil grin. Neal slapped his shoulder. “Well, I’m on a leave of absence for another three weeks and little Neal goes on spring break next week. Maybe we should go on that vacation to Paris.”

 

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